


Irresistible

by Little_Firestar84



Series: Blackdragon Universe [7]
Category: Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel, Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616
Genre: Bed Sex, Best Friends, Blow Jobs, F/M, Fingerfucking, Friends to Lovers, One Shot, Oral Sex, Sharing a Bed, Trope Tuesday, Vaginal Fingering, lovemaking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-27
Updated: 2018-01-27
Packaged: 2019-03-10 05:23:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13495776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Little_Firestar84/pseuds/Little_Firestar84
Summary: “Want me to cuddle you?”“Please. Like we've ever cuddled before.”“I don’t know, Chris. I think that we may have shared a bed a big total of two times before now, and both times I was too busy being asleep to notice if you wanted to be cuddled at all.”“You don’t have to be so short with me. And anyway, no. I don’t want you to cuddle me, thank you very much.”





	Irresistible

**Author's Note:**

> Written (and fineshed late) for trope tuesday: bed sharing. Set in the fictional Blackdragon Universe, home to Christine "Chris" Stark, sister to Tony, lives.  
> Because there just can't be enough sex for (and with) Clint Barton.

“If you keep staring at me one more second, I’ll probably burst out in flames, Chris.” Clint smirks, his eyes closed, as he looks completely relaxed in his bed. The room is engulfed by darkness, the lampposts on the streets the only source of light, filtering through the semi-closed blinds. 

“Why don’t you just shout up and scoot over, uh?”Chris bites her lips and blushes, hugging her pillow like for dear life as Clint lifts a corner of the duvet and makes room for her. She’d like to be annoyed with this daredevil of a man, but she really can’t. 

They’ve been friends for over twelve years, he’s done things that no one would forgive (like forgetting to mention the fact that he was alive), and yet, she can’t be mad with him. She’s never been able to. And in fact, it’s with _herself_ that she is annoyed- because of her own weakness. 

As she makes herself as comfortable as possible in his (big, warm, manly) bed, she chastises herself. She should have never gone to him, but really, what else she was supposed to? She needed someone to be there for her, and Clint knows how to shout up, how to comfort her by just being there, ready to talk when she is ready to. 

Mostly, though, she is annoyed because the smart thing would have been to stay on the couch. All alone. On her own. 

Sharing a bad with Clint Barton (while wearing a shirt of his as nightgown, on top of that)? That’s a bad, bad idea. _Really_ bad. 

“Want me to cuddle you?” he asks, leaning on his side, an arm under his head. On her back, Chris turns to look at Barton, wondering if he can see her looking at him like she had suddenly grown a second _and_ a third head.

“Have we ever cuddled?” she dead-pans. It’s not really a question. They’ve known each other for well over a decade. He should know by now that she doesn’t cuddle. Like, ever. 

For God’s sake – she doesn’t cuddle with the men she is in a physical relationship with, why should she cuddle when _in bed_ with Barton? 

(In her defense, it wasn’t like her exes were really that much interested in cuddling…)

She can feel Clint rolling his eyes in the dark, as he grunts, clearly a bit annoyed with her – he offered her a shirt, a place to sleep in, and a pillow, and she doesn’t even try to be nice with him, and all that actually leaves her mouth is sarcastic, to say the least. 

“I don’t know, Chris. I think that we may have shared a bed a big total of _two times_ before now, and both times I was too busy being asleep to notice if you wanted to be cuddled at all.”

“You don’t have to be so short with me.” She pouts, her voice a little small, almost as she was a child. “And anyway, no. I don’t want to cuddle, thank you very much.”

“Whatever. Good night, anyway.” Clint sighs, a bit exasperated, as he turns on his other side, giving her his back. Chris crosses her arms and does the same, almost sure that she may have heard a pinch of disappointment in Clint’s tone. 

She can kind of understand him. It’s not like she is disappointed they are not cuddling, but, for God’s sake, he could have at least tried a little bit harder, uh?

She stares at the walls and the ceiling for what feels like an eternity, and yet when her eyes fall on the huge clock in the corner, she realizes it’s been not more than ten minutes.

Great. She can’t fall asleep because she is thinking things over and because she feels guilty.

“Clint? Are you awake?” She asks, tentatively, as she taps on his shoulder with a finger.

“Now I am. What?” He barks, clenched teeth and muscles jumping on his neck, as he turns to face her. He sighs as he sees his friend stifling a sob as she grips the turn-up of the duvet like for dear life.

“Nothing. Go back to sleep.” She gives him her back, her voice filled with hurt as she pretends that nothing happened at all, that everything is all right. 

(Flash fact: nothing is all right. Otherwise she wouldn’t be there.)

“Chris…” he sighs. “Do you want me to… I don’t know, hug you?” He asks, tentatively. And a little scared. Chris may not be as powerful as she used to be before the mists, but, still, she is still a telepath. And a mean one on top of that. 

(One time, he made a joke she didn’t like and he saw pink elephants in lieu of human beings for the next two days. A real nightmare.)

She doesn’t really answer – not with her voice, at least. She sighs, and allows Clint to spoon her. He sighs, content, as he embraces from behind his good friend, their fingers interlaced on her belly. 

He rests his check on the crown of her reddish hair. He takes a big breath, and sighs – this time almost desperate, as he was in pain – as he smells his shampoo on her. Electricity runs through his being, and a fire starts in his belly as he tightens his hold on her and feels himself harden,his growing desire pocking her at the small of her back.

He feels guilty, and stupid. It’s not the first time that Chris took a shower at his place, why suddenly this primal answer to her – her body, her presence? He shouldn’t – she is a friend, and whatever happened, she needs to be soothed, not confront the hormonal beast he can turn into when lusts takes over. 

Almost as she could feel his inner turmoil, Chris turns around to see his face. Once settled, she lays just as close, their heads on the same pillow and their knees touching. She smiles, making him immediately feel better, and yet he swallows, hard, as he sees her gaze on his face, eyes in the eyes as she bites the corner of her lip.

“Hi.” She just says.

“Sorry.” He simply answers, not really sure if he should look at her at all. And yet… he can’t stop it. He has to look at her in the eyes, holds her gaze. He just has to – no matter what. 

She snorts, in a very un-lady like manner, but the smile never leaves her lips. “Please. We’re just two single and decent-looking people who happen to wear next to nothing while cuddling in bed. It’s not like you were groping me or anything.”

“Uhm. I think that’s probably the first time that we’re both single at the same time since we met.” He chuckles. But then, he reaches out, and caresses her cheek with the back of his hand, and Chris closes her eyes, soaking in the feel of his touch. “Chris… can I tell you something? Just… Don’t freak out, ok?”

“Uh, uh.” She sighs, getting lost in his touch. 

“You are beautiful to me. Not just because you have the most beautiful eyes I have ever seen, but becauseyou’ve always make me feel so damn good. You make me laugh and think. And you make me think I’m a better person when I’m around you, and you’ve taught me to be more serious and controlled. But mostly, I think you are beautiful because you have the kindest heart in the world.”

“Oh, Clint….” She whispers, as tears burn her eyes. She closes them, and sighs as she lets her head rest on his chest. His hearts is drumming, and she can hears the unsteady rhythm even through the cotton of his shirt. “Have you ever thought… about this?”

He just nods. “I’ve always thought that making love to you would be like heaven – because, kiddo, you have no idea how much I care about you. And I trust you, Chris – with my own life. And I’d rather cut my own arm off than do anything that would hurt you.”

She doesn’t answer him. She just sighs, and then leans over and kisses him gently on the mouth, just to deepen the kiss as soon as she hears his quiet moan. She teases his lips with the tip of her tongue, and he kisses her back, moving closer. 

But then, Clint stops – he leans back just enough to see her, to make sure she really wants this, that’s she is sure.

Chris doesn’t answer with words. Smiling, she reaches down with her right hand, and slips her fingers inside his pants and touches his heated flesh. Smooth, hot, hard, so thick she could just circle him with her hand, and when she strokes him to the base, he grew even thicker. 

“Oh Chris, it feels…” he looks at her with passion, his gaze electric. “Let me show you.” He reaches down and pulls her hand away, then he slips out of bed and he quickly undresses. Naked, Clint walks the distance to her side of the bed, and leans over her, ready to capture her mouth into another heated kiss, and her eyes lingers on his naked form, his chest, hers to touch now, the strong muscles of his stomach, his tight hips, and his powerful erection.

Clint was right. Because what he feels for her, she feels for him. She cares about him – maybe even love him a tiny little bit- and she’d trust him with her life.

Now she knows. No matter what happens, they’ll be all right.

Just when their lips are millimeters apart, she shakes her head and stops him, then she reaches out once more, and she guides his throbbing sex to her mouth.

He takes a sharp breath as her lips touch his head and she savors his clean, masculine scent. She moves slowly, wanting to savor each and every instant of this, knowing all too well that this could be the first and last time it ever happens between them. 

She licks him, circling his sex, and then she takes the crown in her mouth, flickering her tongue and sucking hard at the same time. 

Clint moans her name, like a prayer, and smiling Chris pulls back, pausing to use the tip of her tongue, then she engulfs him again, bobbing up and down as far, and fast, as she can go.

Clint touches the back of her head, and Clint smirks against his groin, nuzzling his blonde hairs, thinking that he may want for her to keep up, to go faster, deeper, harder (because, honestly, she’s always thought that Clint Barton was the kind of man who just _loves_ blowjobs), but as their eyes meet, she realizes he wants her to stop.

“Seriously?” She asks, a bit disappointed, as pulls back, pouting, but Chris just shakes his head, and he smiles at her – looking at her with so much tenderness, affection and just plain _love_ that it feels her heart so much so that it almost breaks it.

At a measured pace, Clint starts to unbutton the shirt she is wearing, and Chris feels the cool air hitting her naked body as he reverently parts the fabric, and he sighs as he helps her tossing the piece of clothing on the floor. 

“You are more stunning that I’d ever imagined.” He whispers, like it was an afterthought, as his eyes fall on the triqueta tattooed on the corner of her belly, and he palms the skin on her sides, squeezing hard, grunting like a primate, like to make sure that she was all his - and that she knew it. 

Chris isn’t idle either, even if she is somehow shy. Or maybe, just maybe, that’s not the right word. She is more… curious, amazed. And yet she is still controlled, like her mind and her heart may want to register each every detail of this rendezvous. 

Because it’s Clint, and it’s so damn wrong and yet it’s _fucking right_ at the same time, and it’s like every moment they’ve shared, every touch, every conversation has been nothing but a step into this very direction. It was preparing them for this – bliss and perfection and just _heaven_. 

She nuzzles his neck, his shoulders, and rubs his skin with the palms of her hands, hard muscles on sun-kissed skin filled with scars and roughened by life, such a contrast with hers, delicate, pale and soft, worth the rich girl she has always been.

“Can I?” Clint breaths on her lips as his fingers find the waistband of her panties – silk and lace and _lilac_ , which somehow makes him want her even more because it’s _his color_ covering her femininity, the cloth wet with desire. She nods, her eyelids heavy, as he gently slides the garment over the hips, letting it fall on the carpet. 

When he is done, Clint smiles again, and he encircles her shoulders with his strong arms, bringing her as close as possible. As she runs her hands through his short and messy sandy-blond hair, he kisses her, as talented as she has always imagined him to be - it’s no mystery that Hawkeye’s been places, after all – and she is so bloody turned on that she has to squeeze her legs together to ease the desire, the ache for him.

Clint breaks the kiss, and makes Chris lie down, just to follow her on the mattress and resume his ardent kisses. One of his very, very talented hands find her left breast, and he cups the flesh gently, teasing the hardening nipple with his rough and callous fingers.

Chris sighs in pleasure, a gentle smile gracing her lips as she keeps massaging his scalp through his erotic and yet sweet ministrations. But then, she feels Clint smirking against her skin, and just when she is about to lecture him because the bastard had dared _to stop_ , it’s his mouth that finds her tit, and he nibbles at the bud, sucking hard on her flesh. 

She arches at closed eyes, and it’s been too long, and the sensation alone it’s almost enough to make her come. Clint keeps toying with her breasts, using his lips, his tongue, his breath on her heated skin to bring closer and closer to the edge. She doesn’t even try to pretend to be shy, that he isn’t having an effect on her. Her hips moves up and down on the bed, and the hand that’s not busy in his hair sneak down, between her legs. She needs to come, badly, and she knows that between his kisses and her touch it will be enough – for now. 

As he notices what she’s up to, Clint stills the movements of his tongue, and stops her. Chris groans in frustration, but he just resumes kissing her breast, while it’s _his hand_ that find her sex, feeling her body’s reaction to his touch. He strokes softly her sex, then parts her lips with his fingertips, and when he founds her clit, he caresses it, swirling over the hard bud.

She moans, knowing that this time it’s really going to happen. She’s about to come – she can feel it in the pit or her stomach. Clint keeps stroking her, faster and faster and faster, until he just stops, and she cries out, disappointed. 

When she feels him leaving the bed, fears and shame fills her heart and her mind - he’s changed his mind, he is already regretting it, she’s lost her best friend – but then she hears a soft rip, and sees that he’s gotten a condom from his nightstand. As Clint takes out the circle of rubber, she closes her eyes, sighing content.

A moment later, he is again on the bed, kneeling at her feet. He massages her legs, paying attention to every inch of hers, then, by the knees, he spread her tights, and he opens her femininity, and he captures with his lips her bud.

She cries out, completely unashamed and liberated, grabbing the duvet and thrusting her hips up as Clint did those marvelous things with his tongue. Her head shakes from side to side as she feels the climax re-approaching. She’d want to tell Clint to stop, that it’s not on his lips that she wants to come on their first time together, but she can’t find her voice, and Clint never stops, and she jerks with an orgasm that rocks her whole body – maybe even her whole universe.

Hands massaging her knees, Clint sits on his heels, licking his lips with gusto. His gaze is hot, and his expression smug and arrogant – with reason. Chris tiredly smiles at him, and reaches out to him with a perfectly manicured hand. She scratches his chin, lazily, but then, she grabs him for the back of his neck, and lowers him on top of her, and with hooded eyes, she kisses him again, drunk on her own nectar as she tastes herself on his lips.

Whispers, moans and prays fill the room, as they take their time exploring each other’s mouth, teasing. Clint’s rough hands hungrily maps each and every inch of her body, as he wanted to imprint her into his memory – or make sure that’s real, that she’s really there, naked in his bed andin his arms- right where she has truly always belonged.

Chris can’t stop touching him either; she is a savage, prisoner to her passion; she is either pulling him for his hair, getting Clint closer and closer and closer, or scratching his neck, his back. She maps all of his scars with her fingertips, a testament to a troubled, and yet well-lived, lifetime, making Clint shiver and gasp every time she massages the hard knots of skin.

Like to regain his breath, Clint abandons her lips, resting his forehead against her own, eyes wide open as he stares at the woman underneath him. Eyes in the eyes, lips parted in wonder, he captures her legs just beneath the knees, and all she can feels is his member teasing her entrance. Clint takes his time, gives her time to accommodate him, but when he thrusts inside her heat she comes again, with a silent scream, her back arching and bringing him _incredibly closer_. 

He fills her completely, and it’s so bloody perfect that she is pretty sure that this is it, the moment she has waited so long – the reason they met to begin with.

He lifts her legs to his shoulders, her calves crossed behind his neck. Even her feet are soft, he notices, chuckling, and they smell like the sea. 

(Her toenails are polished with his color.)

“I’m so glad you do yoga…” He whispers, a smile on his lips. He is shaking his head, his voice filled with mirth, and Chris joins in in the laughter, and suddenly… suddenly, everything is perfect, just like it should be, and she understand that this, this very moment, was inevitable. 

Because he is Clint, and he makes her laugh, and he’s taught her not to take everything so bloody seriously – and he has always known how to make her feel better, no matter what.

Still gazing into her black irises, Clint angles himself so he can enter her more fully. His hips slam into her pale skin roughly, and she matches his rhythm perfectly, thrust for thrust, and everything is feral, urgent, powerful – _needy_. 

Chris opens her eyes, finding Clint staring at her. His eyes are hot, scorching with lust, and he doesn’t blink,never glances away, as if he didn’t want to lose one single moment, one single detail, would commit this all to memory. 

He just thrusts into her, over and over and over again, increasing the pace each time he enters her anew, then tension making the powerful muscles of his neck and arms standing out.

She clangs to him with all of her might, squeezing her walls around his throbbing member, wanting nothing more than drawing him deeper and deeper, milking him for everything he is worth.

He is about to come – wants to, needs to. She can see it in his eyes, feels it from his urgent, rhythm, his member pulsing against her inner walls. She wonders if Clint is a screamer – somehow, it would be fitting of his personality – but instead, he lowers his lips to her mouth, and they kiss again, waiting for the moment of release. 

He cries out when he comes – and yet, he doesn’t break the kiss, and feeling his ecstasy on his lips, as she suffocates his cry of pleasure, she feels like it’s not just his member in her. It’s Clint – and she is breathing him in, he is engulfing her, his soul entering everything that she is, her mind body and soul, and she just _can’t_ control herself any longer, and she is brought to climax once again. 

They come together (full disclosure: she thought that coming together was some kind of urban legend, but apparently it’s not), and it lasts a long time, wave after wave after wave of pleasure that just shatters the heart and moves its axis - and then the planet (or maybe just their breathing and their heartbeat) slows down again, leaving them sweating and just _spent_ , and Clint finally breaks the kiss – and he smiles at her, and his eyes are glassy, as if he wanted to cry but was afraid of showing this weakness, and her insides just melt. 

She should be scared, but she is not, because she has never felt as relieved and complete as in this moment. 

Clint eases onto his back and stares at the ceiling, but it’s not two minutes before he rolls on his side and, grabbing her for the waist, he turns her(she gasps and giggles, as she was a little girl) and they are again staring at each other, huge smiles plastered on their faces, as they rest their heads on the same pillow, their knees touching. 

“I should really, really go to the bathroom, but, missy- you drained me out.” 

She shrugs, pinching him on the side. “That’s ok, you can rest a bit. You more than deserve it.”

He smiles, smug and arrogant, but his eyes are filled with joy and tenderness and fun. “That good?” He asks. It’s not an assumption- it’s a real to God question, one he seems to not have the answer to.

Chris chuckles, lifting her head an inch, and looks at him quizzically. “Why, you had any doubts? You have, like, tons of experience. Frankly, I was more worried that _you_ wouldn’t be to… impressed with my performance.”

“You kidding? Someone told you that you weren’t good? Woman, who the hell were you dating up until now?” He demands, indignant.

She just shrugs. “It’s just that, you always used to joke about my evil exes and about the fact that, by my name alone, I should have been a natural born femme fatale. But at the end of the day, my number of relationships can be counted on one hand, maybe one hand and an half.”

“Chris….” He palms her bottom and draws her impossibly closer, so much so that against her belly Chris can feel his sex recovering, ready to perform again, and he looks at her, dead serious. “No matter what they told you, sex is _always_ good for men. And whoever has told you that you weren’t just great in bed, he ought to be locked up.”

“That good?” She quotes his earlier statement, but there’s a little disbelief, and some incredibility, thrown in the mix. 

“Yep.” He grins, looking at her all naked and shiny, right there next to him. He can smell her, and her scent intoxicates him, and makes him stir, want her all over again. “Just so you know, we are going to do this every damn chance we’ve got.”

“Good.” She says, but she doesn’t seem too sure. Clint knows her, knows that look. She is overthinking things – again. 

“You freaking out yet?” he asks, half-jokingly, as he tucks a lock of hair behind her ear. Biting her lips, she just nods. Chris blushes slightly, and Clint sighs as he hugs her, resting his chin her head. His heart is suddenly filled with the tenderness and affection he has always felt for this kind woman, who, in his arms, looks so much younger than her actual age. “Please, just, don’t second guess this.” he whispers, his voice a plea, and a declaration. “Because, something that feels so right… it _just can’t_ be wrong.”

“I’m not.” She simply says, and her voice is so low he even wonders if she has answered _at all_ , but her eyes – her honest and happy eyes- say it all, and Clint runs his fingers through her hair, inhaling her scent – something that’s her and him and just primal and sweet at the same time.

“I’ve got fruit and chocolate. What do you say we get some dessert?” he asks, tenderly.

“If you really have to…” She purrs, languidly touching his erection with her leg. 

“Yeah. I really do. But I was thinking that maybe, after a snack….”

“Uh-Uh. Dessert _and_ sex. Best combination _ever_.” She smiles, trailing a coral-polished nail along Clint’s chest, his skin rough, his muscles as taunt as marble. 

“Nah. That’s not sex. We made love, darling.” He says, holding her gaze, his lips inches from her mouth. He is smiling, and yet it’s a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. It’s, somehow, sad, hunted – _scared_. “Don’t faint Chris, but… I love you.” 

“I know.” She answers, looking into his cerulean eyes. “And I love you too.”

Clint sighs, shaking his head. He swallows, hard, mastering all the courage and the strength he can find inside his soul.

(And somehow, this is worst, scarier than fighting Kang and aliens and the Hand and Hydra all put together.)

“No, you don’t get it, Chris. I love you – I’m _in love_ with you. And, I know it’s a big risk, that the odds aren’t in my favor, but… it’s me, and, it’s you, and together, we’ve always been good at overcoming anything the world would throw at us.”

She doesn’t say a word, just stares at him, her eyes as big as saucers. “Are you actually going to say something or…” he asks her, when the silence becomes too much, heavy on his soul. 

“Yeah, uh…” she mumbles, unable to find the words (which is strange, because she usually has the last word, in every conversation). “That’s not exactly the most romantic thing in the history of the world, but, I think I can work with that.”

Clint chuckles, nuzzling her neck as he allows himself to grope her derriere. “Oh? So, I can hope you’ll reciprocate my feelings, one day?” He half-jokes. 

“You idiot,” she tells him as she massages the strong muscles of his neck. “I already do. Why do you think I could never be happy with none of my ex? It was because of you. Because since that first day, you’ve always been the only one for me. It was only you, and no one else.”

Tears fall on her pale face, and Clint uses his thumbs to wipe them. He smoothers her hair, massages her neck, cups her cheek, and Chris presses against his palm like a cat, making a purring sound, her eyes closed in pleasure and at peace, a smile gracing her lips. Here, she has said it, what has been in her heart all along. 

The circle is closed, her destiny – their destiny – is somehow fulfilled. 

Forgetting everything about the food, Clint lazily kisses her lids, like it was the most natural thing in the world, and covers their sweaty bodies with the duvet. 

Running his hands over her back, he looks down at the sleeping beauty in his arms, and cuddled by her calm breathing, her soothing touch on his body, he follows her into Morpheus’ arms, waiting for their new beginning. 


End file.
